Chapter I: Part 1

THE WANDERINGS OF AN ELEPHANT HUNTER

_First published in 1923_

_Frontispiece._]

THE
WANDERINGS OF AN
ELEPHANT HUNTER

BY
W. D. M. BELL

LONDON

PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICES OF “COUNTRY LIFE,” LTD.,
20, TAVISTOCK ST., COVENT GARDEN, W.C.2, AND BY
GEORGE NEWNES, LTD., 8-11, SOUTHAMPTON ST., STRAND, W.C.2
NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

MCMXXIII

_Printed in Great Britain._

CONTENTS

PAGE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS vii

CHAPTER

I. HUNTING THE BIG BULL ELEPHANT 1

II. THE BRAIN SHOT AT ELEPHANT 5

III. THE BODY SHOT AT ELEPHANT 8

IV. AFRICAN “MEDICINE” OR WITCHCRAFT AND ITS BEARING ON SPORT 12

V. KARAMOJO 20

I. INTO THE UNKNOWN 20

II. IVORY AND THE RAIDERS 31

III. THE COMING OF PYJALÉ 44

VI. DABOSSA 59

VII. THROUGH THE SUDD OF THE GELO RIVER 78

VIII. THE LADO ENCLAVE 87

IX. HUNTING IN LIBERIA 105

X. BUBA GIDA, THE LAST AFRICAN POTENTATE 128

XI. BUBA GIDA AND THE LAKKAS 135

XII. THE ASCENT OF THE BAHR AOUCK 149

XIII. BUFFALO 170

XIV. AFRICAN LIONS 175

XV. RIFLES 179

XVI. AFRICAN ADMINISTRATIONS 184

INDEX 188

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

The Native Attack _Frontispiece_

The Falling Spear: the Deadliest Native Elephant Trap _Facing_ 2

The Marauding Bull ” 3

Spear Weighing about Four Hundred Pounds ” 3

The Deadliest and Most Humane Method of Killing the
African Elephant ” 6

The Brain Shot from Behind ” 6

The Position of the Brain when the Head is Viewed from
the Front ” 6

Locating the Brain with the Side of the Head to the Sportsman ” 6

The Elephant, after the Brain Shot, Dies Quietly ” 7

The Angry Bull ” 8

Where the Windpipe enters the Body is the Spot to Hit ” 8

Elephant in the Country Most Suited to the Body Shot ” 8

With One Eye Shut ” 8

With Both Eyes Open ” 8

The Dotted Lines show the Position of the Heart and Lungs ” 8

With the Herd in the Pairing Season ” 9

Elephant Slinking Away, Warned of the Approach of Man by
Honey-Guides ” 14

Medicine indeed! ” 15

He Shook His Head so Violently in the Death Throes that
a Tusk Flew Out ” 16

A M’Boni Village ” 17

M’Sanya Bow and Poisoned Arrow ” 18

A Patriarch ” 18

“A Small Native Boy was in the Act of Pinking an Enormous
Elephant” ” 19

Poor Karamojans, showing Periwigs ” 34

Carrying the Ivory ” 35

Elephant Snare Net Set, but not yet Covered ” 36

Karamojan Warrior ” 37

That Lunatic Pyjalé Spears an Elephant ” 44

Longelly-Nymung, the Author’s Blood Brother ” 56

The Return of the Safari ” 57

“The Elephant nearly fell over with Fright” ” 64

Watching the Northern Trail for the Returning Raiders ” 65

From the Look-out Hill ” 72

The “Elephant Cemetery” ” 73

The Camp Chronicler ” 76

Abyssinian Slavers ” 77

A Shot from the Shoulders of a Tall Native ” 86

Telescope Tripod as Stand in High Grass ” 87

Elephant in the Upper Nile Swamp ” 94

In the Lado Enclave: White Rhino, Lion and Elephant ” 95

Looking into the Brilliantly Lit Open Space from the
Twilight of the Forest ” 102

Suliemani bumps into his Bull ” 104

The Arrival in West Africa ” 105

A Colony of “Chimps” Fruit-gathering ” 118

Small Elephant of Liberia ” 119

The Palaver with the King ” 124

The Silent Town ” 128

Outside the Walls ” 129

Commanders of Regiments ” 130

Chiefs in Armour with Arrow-proof Quilts ” 131

An Enormous Man, Fully Seven Feet High, rose from
a Pile of Rags ” 132

Whenever the King Sneezes, Coughs or Spits the Attendant
Slaves break into Loud Wailing ” 133

In Buba Rei ” 136

A Foot Soldier ” 137

Lakkas, Shy and Nervous ” 140

Buba Gida’s Elephant Hunters ” 141

He Disappeared into the Thick Stuff ” 146

There He was now Facing Me ” 147

Gallery Forest and Baboon ” 150

Camp on Lake Léré ” 151

A Man-Eater, from whose Inside a Woman’s Bangle was
taken ” 152

Native Decoys ” 154

Whistling Teal and Locust Storks ” 154

Rolling up Hippo ” 154

The Small Canoe Up-streaming ” 155

Hippopotamus in the Shallows ” 156

W., in the Small Canoe, runs into a Rising Hippo ” 157

Spur-winged Geese ” 158

Male Egyptian Geese in Breeding Season ” 159

Sky Black with Wildfowl ” 160

Rhino nearly have our Cook ” 161

Musgum Village ” 162

Mud Huts: Musgum ” 163

A Water Buck ” 164

Female Water Buck on Sandbank ” 165

Doe Kob and Calf well Camouflaged ” 166

Cow Hippo and Calf ” 167

Arab Spear for Ham-stringing Elephant ” 168

Portaging Canoes ” 168

The Kilangozi or Head Porter who carried this Tusk
(148 lbs.) for Sixty-three Consecutive Marching Days ” 169

In Thick Stuff ” 170

Worthy Game ” 170

Some Retreating Cleverly Backwards and Receiving the
Charging Animals’ Rushes on their Shields ” 171

Driven Out of the Reed Beds ” 176

“A Magnificent Male deliberately Turned and Stood
Facing Me” ” 176

Chasing Off an Intruder ” 176

Spotted! ” 177

THE WANDERINGS OF AN ELEPHANT HUNTER

I

HUNTING THE BIG BULL ELEPHANT

The most interesting and exciting form of elephant-hunting is the pursuit of the solitary bull. These fine old patriarchs stand close on twelve feet high at the shoulder and weigh from twelve thousand to fourteen thousand pounds or more, and carry tusks from eighty to one hundred and eighty pounds each. They are of great age, probably a hundred or a hundred and fifty years old. These enormous animals spend their days in the densest part of the bush and their nights in destroying native plantations.

It is curious that an animal of such a size, and requiring such huge quantities of food, should trouble to eat ground nuts—or peanuts, as they are called in this country. Of course, he does not pick them up singly, but plucks up the plant, shakes off the loose earth and eats the roots with the nuts adhering to them. One can imagine the feelings of a native when he discovers that during the night his plantation has been visited by an elephant.

The dense part of the bush where the elephant passes his day is often within half a mile of his nightly depredations, and it is only through generations of experience that these wicked old animals are enabled to carry on their marauding life. Many bear with them the price of their experience in the shape of bullets and iron spear-heads; the natives set traps for them also, the deadliest one being the falling spear. Of all devices for killing elephants known to primitive man this is the most efficient. The head and shank of the spear are made by the native blacksmith, and the whole thing probably weighs about four hundred pounds and requires eight men to haul it into position. To set the trap a spot is chosen in the forest where an elephant-path passes under a suitable tree. A sapling of some twelve feet in length is then cut. One end is made to fit tightly into the socket of the spear-head and to the other end is attached a rope. The spear end of the rope is then placed over a high bough at a point directly over the path, while the other end is taken down to one side of the path, then across it and made fast to a kind of trigger mechanism. It is placed at such a height from the ground as will allow buffalo and antelope to pass under it but not a full-grown elephant. He will have to push it out of his way. This part of the rope is generally made of a bush vine or creeper. If all goes well, an elephant comes along the path, catches the creeper on his forehead or chest, pushes it sufficiently to snap it off, and then down hurtles the huge spear, descending point first with terrific force on neck, shoulder or ribs. I have seen taken from an old bull’s neck a piece of iron three feet long and almost eaten away. The wound had completely healed and it may have been there for years. If, however, the spear strikes the spine, death is instantaneous.

To get within hearing distance of these old elephants is comparatively easy. You simply pick up the enormous tracks in the early morning and follow them into their stronghold. Sometimes, after going quite a short distance through fairly open forest, you begin to find it more and more difficult to force your way along. The tracks are still there, but everything gives way before the elephant and closes in behind him again. Here in the dark cool parts there are no flies, so that the flapping and banging of ears, the usual warning of an elephant’s presence, are lacking. The light begins to fail; air currents are non-existent, or so light they cannot be felt; the silence is profound. Monkeys and parrots are away in the more open parts. You may expect to hear your game at any moment now. You hope to see him, but your luck is in if you do. At the most you will see a high and ghostly stern flitting through the undergrowth, sometimes disconcertingly close in front of you. Literally nothing indicates the presence of such an enormous animal, and if it were not for the swish of the bush as it closes in behind him you would find it hard to believe that he was so close. His feet, softly cushioned with spongy gristle, make no sound. He seems to know that his stern is invulnerable alike to bullets or spears; while his huge ears, acting as sound-collecting discs, catch with their wide expanse the slightest sound of an enemy. He shows no sign of panic; there is no stampede as with younger elephants when they are disturbed; only a quiet, persistent flitting away. You may concentrate on going quietly; you may, and probably do, discard your leg gear in order to make less sound; you redouble your stealth; all in vain. He knows the game and will play hide-and-seek with you all day long and day after day. Not that this silent retreat is his only resource—by no means—he can in an instant become a roaring, headlong devil. The transformation from that silent, rakish, slinking stern to high-thrown head, gleaming tusks and whirling trunk, now advancing directly upon you, is a nerve test of the highest order. The noise is terrific. With his trunk he lashes the bushes. His great sides crash the trees down in every direction, dragging with them in their fall innumerable creepers. The whole forest is in an uproar. Much of this clatter the experienced hunter writes off as bluff, for after a short, sharp rush of this sort he will often come to a dead stop and listen intently. Here, again, his long experience has taught him that his enemy will now be in full retreat, and in most cases he is right. Certainly no native hunter waits to see, and most white men will find they have an almost uncontrollable desire to turn and flee, if only for a short way. With the deadliest of modern rifles it is only a very fleeting chance that one gets at his brain. The fact that the distance at which his head emerges from the masses of foliage is so small, and the time so short until he is right over you, in fact, makes this kind of hunting the most exciting and interesting of any in Africa, or the world, as I think most men who have experienced it will agree. If the shot at the brain is successful the monster falls and the hunter is rewarded with two magnificent tusks. And great will be the rejoicing among the natives at learning of his death, not only for the feast of meat, but also to know that their plantations have been rid of the marauding pest.

II

THE BRAIN SHOT AT ELEPHANT

The hunting of the African elephant is now restricted in so many ways that it is difficult for anyone to gain experience in the shooting of them. In most of the protectorates or dependencies of the European powers a licence to kill two in a year costs from £40 to £80. It therefore behoves the sportsman to make a good job of it when he does come face to face with these splendid animals.

Twenty-five years ago parts of Africa were still open to unrestricted hunting, and it is from a stock of experience—gathered during years devoted to this fascinating pursuit—that I am about to draw, in the hope that it may assist the sportsman to bring about a successful termination to his hunt and perhaps save some unfortunate animal from a lingering death due to wounds.

In hunting elephant, as in other things, what will suit one man may not suit another. Every hunter has different methods and uses different rifles. Some believe in the big bores, holding that the bigger the bore therefore the greater the shock. Others hold that the difference between the shock from a bullet of, say, 250 grs. and that from a bullet of, say, 500 grs. is so slight that, when exercised upon an animal of such bulk as an elephant, it amounts to nothing at all. And there is no end to the arguments and contentions brought forward by either side; therefore it should be borne in mind when reading the following instructions that they are merely the result of one individual’s personal experience and not the hard and fast rules of an exact science.

As regards rifles, I will simply state that I have tried the following: ·416, ·450/·400, ·360, ·350, ·318, ·275 and ·256. At the time I possessed the double ·400 I also had a ·275. Sometimes I used one and sometimes the other, and it began to dawn on me that when an elephant was hit in the right place with the ·275 it died just as quickly as when hit with the ·400, and, _vice versa_, when the bullet from either rifle was wrongly placed death did not ensue. In pursuance of this train of thought I wired both triggers of the double ·450/·400 together, so that when I pulled the rear one both barrels went off simultaneously. By doing this I obtained the equivalent of 800 grs. of lead propelled by 120 grs. of cordite. The net result was still the same. If wrongly placed, the 800 grs. from the ·400 had no more effect than the 200 grs. from the ·275. For years after that I continued to use the ·275 and the ·256 in all kinds of country and for all kinds of game. Each hunter should use the weapon he has _most confidence_ in.

The deadliest and most humane method of killing the African elephant is the shot in the brain. Its advantages over the body shot are numerous, but among them may be mentioned that it causes instantaneous death, and no movement of the stricken animal communicates panic to others in the vicinity. The mere falling of the body from the upright to a kneeling or lying position does not appear in practice to have any other effect than to make the others mildly curious as to what has happened. On the other hand, if there are several elephants together and the heart shot is employed, the one hit almost invariably rushes off with a groan and squirm for fifty or a hundred yards, taking with him his companions, which do not stop when he stops, but continue their flight for miles. Another great advantage that the brain shot has over the heart shot is that with the former there is no search for the dead animal, whereas with the latter it is sometimes extremely difficult to find it in thick bush even when lying within fifty or sixty yards of the spot from which the shot was fired. Again, the smallest bore rifles with cartridges of a modern military description, such as the ·256, ·275, ·303 or ·318, are quite sufficiently powerful for the brain shot. The advantages of these I need hardly enumerate, such as their cheapness, reliability, handiness, lightness, freedom from recoil, etc. For the brain shot only bullets with an unbroken metal envelope (_i.e._, solids) should be employed; and those showing good weight, moderate velocity, with a blunt or round-nosed point, are much better than the more modern high velocity sharp-pointed variety. They keep a truer course, and are not so liable to turn over as the latter.

The greatest disadvantage the brain shot has is the difficulty of locating the comparatively small brain in the enormous head. The best way is, of course, to kill an elephant by the heart shot and very carefully to dissect the head, thereby finding out the position of the brain in relation to the prominent points or marks on the head, such as the eyes and ear holes. Unfortunately for this scheme, the head is never in the same position when the animal is dead as when alive, as an elephant hardly ever dies kneeling when a body shot has been given him.

The experienced elephant shot can reach the brain from almost any angle, and with the head in almost any position. But the novice will be well advised to try the broadside shot only. Having mastered this and studied the frontal shot, he may then try it. When successful with the above two shots he may be able to reach the zenith of the elephant hunter’s ambition, _i.e._, to kill instantaneously any of these huge pachyderms with one tiny nickel pencil-like bullet when moving or stationary and from any angle.

From the point of view of danger to the hunter, should a miss occur, an ineffective shot in the head does not appear to have the enraging effect a body shot elsewhere than in the vitals sometimes has. Should the bullet miss the brain, but still pass sufficiently close to it to stun the animal, he will drop to every appearance dead. If no convulsive jerking of the limbs is noticed he is only stunned, and should be given another shot, as otherwise he will soon get up and make off as if nothing had touched him.

III

THE BODY SHOT AT ELEPHANT

Although the brain shot is speedier in result and more humane if bungled than the body shot, yet the latter is not to be despised. Many hunters employ no other. These will generally be found to be adherents to the “Big Bore” school. The heart and lungs of an elephant present, together with the huge arteries immediately adjacent, a large enough target for anyone, provided his or her nerves are sufficiently controlled to allow of the rifle being aimed at the correct spot. If this is not the case, and the whole animal is treated as the target, to be hit anywhere, then the result will be flight or a charge on the part of the elephant. Should the latter occur in thick stuff or high grass—12 ft. or 14 ft.—the novice will have a very unpleasant time indeed. An angry bull elephant is a magnificent sight, but an extremely difficult animal to deal with, even for the practised shot. For one thing, he is generally end on and the head is at a high angle and never still. If the novice comes through the encounter undamaged he will either leave elephants severely alone for the rest of his life or he will be extremely careful where he puts his bullet next time.

_A magnificent sight but extremely difficult to deal with._]

_Even here, on an open grassy plain, if the hunter can get within thirty or forty yards, the brain shot is to be preferred._]

_The shaded portion represents the hands holding the rifle._]

_The whole of the head is visible through the hands and rifle._]

The natural inclination of most men is to fire and fire quickly, straight at the beast, anywhere. _This must be resisted_ at all costs. If you can force yourself to wait until you have counted ten _slowly_, the animal is yours. The mere act of asserting your mentality gives such ascendency to your powers of judgment and such confidence that you will be surprised to find yourself coolly waiting for a better chance than the one you were quite prepared to take a few seconds before. _When_ you are in this state of mind, try and get to a range of about thirty yards at right angles to the fore and aft line of the animal. Now see if the fore leg is clearly visible for the greater part. If it is and is fairly upright you may use its centre line as your _direction_. A third of the distance from the brisket to the top of the back is the _elevation_. If struck there or thereabouts either the top of the heart or the lungs or some of the arteries will be pierced and the animal cannot live, even when the bullet used is as small as a ·256. He may run fifteen or twenty yards, subside into a walk for another forty or fifty yards, stand about for some time and then subside. This is a pierced artery. He may rush away for thirty to sixty yards at a great pace and fall in his stride. This is a heart shot. Or he may rush off spouting bright red blood from his trunk in great quantities. This is a shot in the lungs.

If you have missed the deadly area and are high, you may have touched the spinal column. But it is so massive at this spot in a large elephant that it will rarely be broken, so that even when he comes down he will soon recover and be up and off. Too far forward you may get the point of the shoulder and your bullet may have so weakened the bone that when he starts off it may break. An elephant can neither trot nor gallop, but can only pace, therefore one broken leg anchors him. It is true that he may just stagger along for a few yards by substituting his tusks as a support in place of the broken leg. In a case of this sort you will naturally dispatch him as quickly as possible.

If your bullet has gone too far back and got into the stomach you may be in for a lively time, as nothing seems to anger them more than a shot so placed. If he comes for you meaning business, no instructions would help you, simply because you wouldn’t have time to think of them. Hit him hard quickly and as often as you can, about a line between the eyes, or in the throat when his head is up, and see what happens. Never turn your back to him. While you can see him you know where he is. And besides, you cannot run in thick stuff without falling. Always stand still and shoot whichever animal threatens you most is what I have found to be the best plan.

Should you come upon a good bull in a position such as is shown in Fig. 1, you may kill him with a shot where the windpipe finally enters the chest as indicated by the spear. For some reason or other this is not an easy shot. It may be because the spot is nearly always in deep shadow. Personally I would wait until he lowered his head and gave me a chance at his brain. A hunting companion of mine once shot an elephant in the brain while in a position such as shown in Fig. 1. The bullet had entered through the top of the palate, showing that he must have been almost under the animal’s head when he fired. In Fig. 2 we have elephant in country most suitable for the body shot, that is, open, short grassy plains. The mature bull on the right is the first choice. Observe his massive head, short but heavy tusks. He is not old, but his teeth will weigh well. The second choice is the one on the left which is swinging his ears. Our friend in the middle which is philandering with the heavy-looking cow should be spared. Observe how his teeth taper away to nothing. They would scarcely scale 30 lb. each.

In Fig. 3 I have tried to show what happens when you aim your rifle _with one eye closed_ at an elephant’s brain. Everything below the head is obliterated with this form of backsight. This makes it much more difficult to judge correctly the position of the brain, as the sight cuts out one or both of the “leading marks,” _i.e._, the eye and the earhole. The shaded portion represents the hands holding the rifle.

Fig. 4 is meant to show what happens when the same sight is being taken at the same elephant but _with both eyes open_. Owing to the left eye seeing the whole image—as its view of it is not obstructed by the hands—the whole of the elephant’s head appears visible _through the hands and rifle_. The advantage is obvious. Anyone can do it who will take the trouble to practise.

Finally, I would like to warn anyone who may be going out for his elephant for the first time to beware that the native gun-bearer does not rush him into _firing too soon_. They have not our medical knowledge which teaches us that the brain, heart and lungs are the best places to hit. They would hit them anywhere and trust to “medicine” to do the rest. I have been solemnly assured by native elephant hunters that it is not the bullet which causes the animal’s death, but the fire from the powder which enters the hole made by the bullet.

IV

AFRICAN “MEDICINE” OR WITCHCRAFT AND ITS BEARING ON SPORT

The ruling factor in the pagan African’s life is witchcraft, generally called throughout the continent “medicine.” All his doings are ruled by it. No venture can be undertaken without it. Should he be going into the bush on some trivial project he will pick up a stone and deposit it on what has through years become a huge pile. This is to propitiate some spirit. But this apparently does not fully ensure the success of the expedition, for should a certain species of bird call on the wrong side of the road the whole affair is off and he returns to his village to wait until another day when the omens are good.

In illness he recognises no natural laws; all is ascribed to medicine on the part of some enemy. Should his wife fail to produce the yearly baby, someone is making medicine against him through her. Hunting or raiding ventures are never launched without weeks of medicine making. The regular practitioners of this medicine are called “medicine men” or witch doctors. Their power is enormous and is hardly fully realised even by the European administrations, although several African penal codes now contain legislative efforts to curtail the practice of the evil eye and the black arts. These medicine men have always appeared to me to be extremely shrewd and cunning men who yet really believed in their powers. While all goes well their lot is an enviable one. Gifts of food are showered upon them. I suspect that they secretly eat the fowls and goats which are brought as sacrifices to propitiate the spirits: at any rate, these seem to disappear in a mysterious manner. Beer and women are theirs for the asking as long as all goes well. But, should the medicine man have a run of ill luck in his practice and be not too firmly established, he sometimes comes to grief. The most frequent cause of their downfall appears to occur in the foretelling of rain. Supposing a dry year happens to come along, as it so frequently does in Africa, everyone to save his crops resorts to the medicine man. They take to him paltry presents to begin with. No rain. They give him fowls, sheep and goats. Still no rain. They discuss it among themselves and conclude that he is not yet satisfied. More presents are given to him and, maybe, he is asked why he has not yet made the rain come. Never at a loss, he explains that there is a strong combination up against him, a very strong one, with which he is battling day and night. If he only had a bullock to sacrifice to such and such a spirit he might be able to overcome the opposition. And so it goes on. Cases are known among rich tribes where the medicine man has enriched himself with dozens of head of cattle and women. At this stage should rain appear all is well, and the medicine man is acclaimed the best of fellows and the greatest of the fraternity. But should its appearance be so tardy that the crops fail, then that medicine man has lost his job and has to flee to some far tribe. If he be caught he will, most probably, be stoned or clubbed to death.

To the elephant hunter the medicine man can sometimes be of great assistance. I once consulted a medicine man about a plague of honey-guides. These are African birds about the size of a yellowhammer, which have the extraordinary habit of locating wild bees’ nests and leading man to them by fluttering along in front of him, at the same time keeping up a continuous and penetrating twittering until the particular tree in which the nest is situated is reached. After the native has robbed the nest of its honey, by the aid of smoke and fire, he throws on the ground a portion—sometimes very small—of the grub-filled comb as a reward for the bird.

My experience occurred just after the big bush fires, when elephant are so easily tracked, their spoor standing out grey on the blackened earth. At this season, too, the bees’ nests contain honey and grubs. Hundreds of natives roam the bush and the honey-guides are at their busiest. Elephants were numerous, and for sixteen days I tracked them down and either saw or heard them stampede, warned of our presence by honey-guides, without the chance of a shot. Towards the end of this ghastly period my trackers were completely discouraged. They urged me to consult the medicine man, and I agreed to do so, thinking that at any rate my doing so would imbue the boys with fresh hope. Arrived at the village, in due course I visited the great man. His first remark was that he knew that I was coming to consult him, and that he also knew the reason of my visit. By this he thought to impress me, I suppose, but, of course, he had heard all about the honey-guides from my boys, although they stoutly denied it when I asked them after the interview was over. Yes, I said, I had come to see him about those infernal birds. And I told him he could have all the meat of the first elephant I killed if he could bring about that desirable end to my long hunt. He said he would fix it up. And so he did, and the very next day, too.

In the evening of the day upon which I had my consultation I was strolling about the village while my boys got food, prepared for another trip in the bush. Besides these preparations I noticed a lot of basket mending and sharpening of knives. One woman I questioned said she was coming with us on the morrow to get some elephant meat. I spoke to two or three others. They were all preparing to smoke and dry large quantities of meat, and they were all going with us. Great optimism prevailed everywhere. Even I began to feel that the turning in the lane was in sight. Late that night one of my trackers came to say that the medicine man wished me to stay in camp in the morning and not to proceed as I had intended. I asked the reason of this and he simply said that the medicine man was finding elephant for me and that when the sun was about so high (9 o’clock) I should hear some news.

Soon after daybreak natives from the village began to arrive in camp. All seemed in great spirit, and everyone came with knives, hatchets, baskets and skin bags of food. They sat about in groups laughing and joking among themselves. Breakfast finished, the boys got everything ready for the march. What beat me was that everyone—my people included—seemed certain they were going somewhere. About 9.30 a native glistening with sweat arrived. He had seen elephant. How many? Three! Big ones? Yes! Hurriedly telling the chief to keep his people well in the rear, off we set at a terrific pace straight through the bush until our guide stopped by a tree. There he had left his companion watching the elephants. Two or three hundred yards further on we came to their tracks. Everywhere were the welcome signs of their having fed as they went. But, strangest thing of all, not a single honey-guide appeared. Off again as hard as we could go, the tracks running on ahead clear and distinct, light grey patches on a burnt ground with the little grey footmarks of the native ahead of us. In an hour or so we spotted him in a tree, and as we drew near we caught the grey glint of elephant. Still no honey-guides; blessings on the medicine man! Wind right, bush fairly open, it only remained to see if they were warrantable. That they were large bulls we already knew from their tracks. Leaving the boys, I was soon close behind the big sterns as they wandered gently along. In a few seconds I had seen their ivory sufficiently to know that one was really good and the other two quite shootable beasts. Now for the brain shot. Of all thrills in the world give me the standing within 20 yds. of good elephant, waiting for a head to turn to send a tiny nickel bullet straight to the brain. From toenail to top of back they were all a good 11 ft. Stepping a few yards to the left and keeping parallel with them I saw that the way to bag the lot was to shoot the leader first, although he was not the biggest. Letting pass one or two chances at the middle and rearmost beasts, I finally got a bullet straight into the leader’s brain. The middle one turned towards the shot and the nearest turned away from it, so that they both presented chances at their brains: the former an easy broadside standing, the latter a behind the ear shot and running. So hard did this one come down on his tusks that one of them was loose in its socket and could be drawn straight out. Almost immediately one could hear a kind of rush coming through the bush. The chief and his people were arriving. There seemed to be hundreds of them. And the noise and rejoicings! I put guards on the medicine man’s beast. From first to last no honey-guide had appeared. The reader must judge for himself whether there was any magic in the affair or not. What I think happened was this: knowing that the medicine man was taking the affair in hand and that he had promised elephant, the natives believed that elephant would be killed. Believing that, they were willing to look industriously for them in the bush. Great numbers of them scattered through the bush had the effect of splitting up and scattering the honey-guides, besides increasing the chances of finding elephant. The fact that we did not hear a single bird must have been mere chance, I think. But you could not convince an African of that. Natural causes and their effects have not a place in his mind. I remember once an elephant I had hit in the heart shook his head violently in his death throes. I was astounded to see one of his tusks fly out and land twelve paces away. The boys were awe-stricken when they saw what had happened. After ten minutes’ silence they started whispering to each other and then my gun-bearer came to speak to me. He solemnly warned me with emotion in his voice never to go near another elephant. If I did it would certainly kill me after what had occurred. It was quite useless my pointing out that the discarded tusk was badly diseased, and that it would have probably fallen out in a short time anyhow. No! No! Bwana, it is medicine! said they.

_Perhaps twenty grass shelters are dotted here and there under the trees._]

Some few years ago I was hunting in the Wa Boni country in British East Africa. The Wa Boni form an offshoot of the Sanya tribe and are purely hunters, having no fixed abode and never undertaking cultivation of any kind. They will not even own stock of any sort, holding that such ownership leads to trouble in the form of—in the old days—raids, and now taxation. Living entirely on the products of the chase, honey, bush fruits and vegetables, they are perhaps the most independent people in the world. They are under no necessity to combine for purposes of defence, having nothing to defend. Owning no plantations, they are independent of droughts. The limitless bush provides everything they want. Skins for wearing apparel, meat for eating, fibres of great strength for making string and ropes for snares, sinew for bowstrings, strong and tough wood for bows, clay for pottery, grass for shelter, water-tubers for drinking when water is scarce, fruit foods of all sorts; and all these for the gathering. No wonder they are reluctant to give up their roving life. I was living in one of the M’Boni villages, if village it could be called. It consisted of, perhaps, twenty grass shelters dotted here and there under the trees. It was the season when honey is plentiful, and there was a great deal of drinking of honey mead going on. This is simply made by mixing honey with water and supplying a ferment to it. There are several ferments in the bush, but on this particular occasion the seeds of the wild tree-calabash were being used. On the third day after brewing the mead is very intoxicating. A native will drink great quantities before getting really drunk, but when he does reach that stage he appears to remain so for many hours. I was once among a very wild and treacherous tribe where drunkenness was very prevalent. A nude gentleman about 6 ft. 5 ins. in height strolled into camp one day accompanied by his daughter. In his hand he carried two beautifully polished thrusting spears. The bartering of variously coloured beads, brass and iron wire, etc., for native flour was going on in camp. Watching this, our friend suddenly stooped down, snatched a handful of beads and made off with them in a leisurely manner. Immediately there was an uproar from my people, and a dozen boys gave chase to try to recover the stolen goods. At the same time the affair was reported to me in my tent. On emerging, I saw the tall black savage stalking across the open ground with a howling mob of my porters round him. Without turning to the right or left and without hurry he kept his two 10 ft. spears darting in all directions, and none could close with him. Something had to be done. At first I thought of doing something silly with a rifle, and then I had a brain-wave. I shouted to the boys to stone him. They jumped to the idea, and in three seconds that scoffing barbarian had his tail down and was running for dear life, amid all roars of laughter from both sides. Unluckily for him a rock weighing several pounds caught him on the back of the neck and over he went. Like a pack of terriers, my lads were on him, and presently he was borne back in triumph to camp. His strength was so prodigious and his naked body so covered in sheep’s fat that it took a dozen men to hold him. A public thrashing was now administered, in order to show the tribe that that kind of game would not do. But being quite drunk the only effect of the thrashing was to make the victim sing and laugh. This rather spoilt the effect of the whole thing, so I gave orders to tie him up until he was sober. Thus he passed the night, singing the whole time. Nothing could be done to silence him, but the camp guards kept pouring buckets of cold water over him to try to sober him up. In spite of this he was still supremely drunk next morning when we let him go.

The poisoned part is carried, separately, from the shank, carefully wrapped in buckskin.]

One morning early, news came in to the Boni village that the tracks of two large bull elephants were to be seen not far off. Arrived at the tracks, it was evident that they had passed along there during the night. Soon the welcome signs of their having fed as they went were seen. Promising as these signs were, it was not until midday that we began to come up with them. Presently the tracks led us into a patch of dense evergreen forest, and here we expected to find them. Leaving my companions near the edge of the forest, I went in on the tracks as silently yet as quickly as possible. I went quickly because the wind was tricky, and it is always better on these occasions to get to close quarters as soon as you can, thereby lessening the chances of your game winding you. I was soon within hearing distance of the elephants. As I lifted my leg cautiously over some tangle of bush I could hear a deep sigh or an internal rumble from the dozing animals. Turning a bush the following scene disclosed itself. A small native boy was in the act of pinking an enormous elephant with his tiny reed arrow. Aiming for the big intestine of the father beast he let drive before I could stop him. In an instant all was uproar. The two elephants stampeded madly through the forest, crashing everything down in front of them, disappearing in a cloud of pollen, dust and leaves. The formerly still and sleepy bush seemed alive with crying monkeys and calling birds as the little boy proceeded coolly to pick up his guinea-fowl arrow where it had fallen after failing to pierce the elephant’s hide.

“Hullo, you little devil,” I said.

A half glance round and he was gone. The little sportsman had been simply amusing himself. Of course, the grown men of the Wa Boni kill elephants, but for this they use extraordinarily heavy arrows which require immensely powerful bows to propel them. Some of these bows require a pull of 100 lb. to get them out to the end of the wooden arrow where the poisoned part fits into a socket. There is some peculiar knack in this, as no other native I have seen—and certainly no white man—can get them more than half way, and yet these natives are very small and slight.

V

KARAMOJO

I.—INTO THE UNKNOWN

My earliest recollection of myself is that of a child whose sole ambition in life was to hunt. At a very early age I conceived the idea of hunting the American bison. With this end in view I gathered together a few oddments, such as the barrels of a double-barrelled pistol, a clasp knife, a few bits of string and all the money—chiefly pennies—that I could lay hands on. This bison-hunting expedition was prematurely cut short at the Port of Glasgow by the critical state of its finances, for after buying a pork pie for twopence its treasury was found to be almost empty. This was a sad blow, and it was while thinking it over on a doorstep that a kindly policeman instituted proceedings which resulted in the lost and crestfallen child being restored to his family. But the growth of years and the acquirement of the art of reading—by which I discovered that bison no longer existed in America—my ambition became fixed on becoming an elephant hunter. The reading of Gordon Cumming’s books on Africa finished the business. An elephant hunter I determined to become; this idea never left me. Finally, after all kinds of vicissitudes I arrived in Africa and heard of a wonderful new and unexplored country called Karamojo. Elephants were reported by the black traders to be very numerous with enormous tusks, and there was no sort of administration to hamper the hunter with restrictions and game laws. Above all there appeared to be no other person hunting elephants in this Eldorado except the natives, and they had no firearms. My informants told me that the starting point for all safaris (caravans) was Mumias, a native town and Government Post at the foot of Mount Elgon, which formed the last outpost of civilisation for a traveller proceeding North.

At the time of which I write Mumias was a town of some importance. It was the base for all trading expeditions to the Lake Rudolph basin, Turkana, Dabossa and the Southern Abyssinia country. In the first few years of the trade in ivory this commodity was obtained for the most trifling sums; for instance, a tusk worth £50 or £60 could be bought for two or three shillings’ worth of beads or iron wire. As time went on and more traders flocked to Karamojo to share in the huge profits of the ivory trade, competition became keener. Prices rose higher and higher. Where once beads and iron wire sufficed to buy a tusk, now a cow must be paid. Traders were obliged to go further and further afield to find new territory until they came in violent contact with raiding parties of Abyssinians away in the far North.

When most of the dead ivory in the country had been traded off the only remaining source was the yearly crop of tusks from the elephants snared and killed by the native Karamojans. For these comparatively few tusks competition became so keen and prices so high that there was no longer any profit when as much as eight or ten cows had to be paid for a large tusk, and the cows bought down at the base for spot cash and at prices of from £2 to £5 each. Hence arose the idea in the brains of two or three of the bolder spirits among the traders to take by force that which they could no longer afford to buy. Instead of traders they became raiders. In order to ensure success to a raid an alliance would be made with some tribe which was already about equal in strength to its neighbours through centuries of intertribal warfare. The addition of three or four hundred guns to the tribe’s five or six thousand spear-men rendered the result of this raid by the combined forces almost beyond doubt, and moreover, conferred upon the raiders such complete domination of the situation that they were able to search out and capture the young girls, the acquisition of which is the great aim and object of all activity in the Mohammedan mind.

Complete and magnificent success attending the first raiding venture the whole country changed magically. The hitherto more or less peaceful looking trading camps gave place to huge armed Bomas surrounded by high thorn fences. Everyone—trader or native—went about armed to the teeth. Footsore or sick travellers from caravans disappeared entirely, or their remains were found by the roadside. Native women and cattle were heavily guarded, for no man trusted a stranger.

Into this country of suspicion and brooding violence I was about to venture. As soon as my intention became known among the traders at Mumias I encountered on every side a firm barrage of lies and dissuasion of every sort. The buying of pack donkeys was made impossible. Guides were unobtainable. Information about the country north of Turkwell was either distorted and false or entirely withheld. I found that no Mohammedan boy would engage with me. The reason for all this apparently malicious obstruction on the part of the trading community was not at the time known to me, but it soon became clear when I had crossed the Turkwell and found that the peaceful, polite and prosperous looking trader of Mumias became the merciless and bloody Dacoit as soon as he had crossed that river and was no longer under European control. Numbering among them, as they did, some pretty notorious ex-slavers, they knew how unexpectedly far the arm of the law could sometimes reach and they no doubt foresaw that nothing but trouble would arise from my visit to the territory they had come to look upon as theirs by right of discovery. It surprises me now, when I think of how much they had at stake, that they resorted to no more stringent methods than those related above to prevent my entry into Karamojo. As it was I soon got together some bullocks and some pagan boys. The bullocks I half trained to carry packs and the Government Agent very kindly arranged that I should have eight Snider rifles with which to defend myself, and to instil confidence among my Baganda and Wanyamwere and Kavirondo boys. The Sniders looked well and no one knew except myself that the ammunition for them was all bad. And then I had my personal rifles, at that time a ·303 Lee-Enfield, a ·275 Rigby-Mauser and a double ·450-·400, besides a Mauser pistol which could be used as a carbine and which soon acquired the name of “Bom-Bom” and a reputation for itself equal to a hundred ordinary rifles.

While searching through some boxes of loose ammunition in the store at Mumias in the hope of finding at least a few good rounds for my Snider carbines I picked up a Martini-Henry cartridge, and while looking at its base it suddenly struck me that possibly it could be fired from a Snider. And so it proved to be. The base being ·577 calibre fitted perfectly, but the bullet, being only ·450 bore, was scarcely what you might call a good fit for a ·577 barrel, and there was, of course, no accuracy to the thing at all. But it went off with a bang and the propensity of its bullet to fly off at the most disconcerting angles after rattling through the barrel from side to side seemed just to suit the style of aiming adopted by my eight askaris (soldiers), for on several occasions jackal and hyena were laid low while prowling round the camp at night.

Bright and early next morning my little safari began to get itself ready for the voyage into the Unknown. The loads were got out and lined up. First of all an askari, with a Snider rifle very proud in a hide belt with five Martini cartridges gleaming yellow in it. He had carefully polished them with sand for the occasion. Likewise the barrel of the old Snider showed signs of much rubbing, and a piece of fat from the tail of a sheep dangled by a short string from the hammer. Then my chop-boxes, and camp gear borne by porters, followed by my boy Suede and Suliemani, the cook, of cannibal parentage be it whispered. As usual, all the small loads seemed to be jauntily and lightly perched on the massive heads and necks of the biggest porters, while the big loads looked doubly big in comparison to the spindly shanks which appeared below them. One enormous porter in particular drew my attention. He was capering about in the most fantastic manner with a large box on his head. From the rattle which proceeded from the box I perceived that this was the cook’s mate, and as I possessed only a few aluminium cooking pots, his was perhaps the lightest load of any, and I vowed that he should have a good heavy tusk to carry as soon as possible. This I was enabled to do soon after passing the Turkwell, and this splendid head-carrier took entire charge of a tusk weighing 123 lb., carrying it with pride for several hundred weary miles on a daily ration of 1 lb. of mtama grain and unlimited buck meat.